CORRIGER LES PAROLES
Paroles : Quiet Trip
Oh my, God, I can't believe my eyes
Wake up everybody you know
Come on watch the garden grow
I'll see you when you get there
Uh, alright, yeah, two fifteen, yo
Downtown for the win, woah
Sean C for the tempo, Portugal for the intro
This is Arctical Don Disco from the one choir
Calling shots like an umpire
Where I live, yo, man, I done lost mad kinfolk
Over gunfire through the window
As a young squire who become Sire
I had no way to tell what I was in for
I was 5'9" like Royce with the giant voice like Mikе Winslow
Never been quite likе them so I'm on my own time
Mind darker than a coal mine
Thoughts deeper than a coal mine
So I'm out here slangin' on this blade
Hopin' that I don't get cut by these police
Makin' raids on those of us who know what's up
My lil' homies, my lil' sons
Got them keys and they got them drums
Making superstitious runs on them insufficient funds
No more rules in this here sh*t, toddlers packin' a revolver
How the hell you robbers gonna rob the robber?
See you with that heater, you sweeter than peach cobbler
If it ain't about that paper, then man that ain't what Reek habla
Man, you know what's goin', they say, "Woke about that dope"
Ask them fiends about them keys, 'bout that coke, 'bout that smoke
Two fifteen my city, man, and we it from 'round here
If it's crazy where you at then, it ain't no different 'round here
Wake up everybody you know
Come on watch the garden grow
I'll see you when you get there
Uh, alright, yeah, two fifteen, yo
Downtown for the win, woah
Sean C for the tempo, Portugal for the intro
This is Arctical Don Disco from the one choir
Calling shots like an umpire
Where I live, yo, man, I done lost mad kinfolk
Over gunfire through the window
As a young squire who become Sire
I had no way to tell what I was in for
I was 5'9" like Royce with the giant voice like Mikе Winslow
Never been quite likе them so I'm on my own time
Mind darker than a coal mine
Thoughts deeper than a coal mine
So I'm out here slangin' on this blade
Hopin' that I don't get cut by these police
Makin' raids on those of us who know what's up
My lil' homies, my lil' sons
Got them keys and they got them drums
Making superstitious runs on them insufficient funds
No more rules in this here sh*t, toddlers packin' a revolver
How the hell you robbers gonna rob the robber?
See you with that heater, you sweeter than peach cobbler
If it ain't about that paper, then man that ain't what Reek habla
Man, you know what's goin', they say, "Woke about that dope"
Ask them fiends about them keys, 'bout that coke, 'bout that smoke
Two fifteen my city, man, and we it from 'round here
If it's crazy where you at then, it ain't no different 'round here
